“I’m sure he’ll make it work,” I agree. “We’re desperate for fresh blood. Three of our old timers are retiring in the next eighteen months.” I clap him on the shoulder. “Excited for you to join us.”
“Me, too.” He beams. “And the four days off in a row thing will be nice. Faith and I will finally be able to do a little traveling.”
I nod, secretly wondering if the firefighter life has anything to do with what happened with Maddie this morning.
Maybe she’s already resenting the fact that I’m gone nearly half the week. Maybe she’s doubting that a relationship that involves a certain amount of separation is for her. Yes, significant others are allowed to visit their partners on duty, but it isn’t the same as having the person you love in your bed every night of the week.
Mick clears his throat as he pulls his beer closer to his chest. “I’ve been wanting to tell you, man…thanks for talking to Faith. That day my ex showed up. She said you really made a difference. Without you, we might not have found our way back to each other as fast as we did.”
“No worries,” I say gruffly, wishing I could handle my own love life as easily as I helped Faith handle hers.
Mick laughs. “Sorry, am I grossing you out? My friends don’t let me talk about Faith anymore. They say I’m too whipped, but I think they’re just jealous.”
I grunt. “No, I’m not grossed out. I…” I clear my throat. “There’s actually this woman I’ve been seeing…”
Mick’s brows lift. “Oh, yeah? New girl?”
“Kind of new, kind of not,” I say, shocked to find myself confiding in Maddie’s brother, of all people.
I’ve always liked Mick, but we were too far apart in age to be close growing up.
But now…
Well, Mick’s in a relationship, and I want to be in a relationship with his sister. There is a chance he’ll be able to offer some insight, even if he doesn’t know it’s Maddie I’m talking about.
“We’ve known each other for a long time, but now things are different,” I continue. “Good different, though. At least I thought so. We’ve been having a lot of fun together, easy conversation, never an awkward moment, but when I started talking feelings a little today…” I exhale. “It was like she couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”
“Huh.” Mick takes a swig of his beer. “You think she isn’t on board for more than fun, maybe?”
“No, she’s on board. At least she said she was. She’s the one who said she didn’t want to date unless there was a chance it could become something more. So why would she suddenly change her mind, especially when everything’s been going so well?”
Mick shakes his head. “I don’t know. People are confusing. That’s one thing I love about Faith, she’s so direct. There’s never any bullshit mystery. Only good mystery.”
I frown. “Yeah, but that’s the thing, this woman has always been direct with me, too. Back when we were just friends, she never hesitated to tell me what was on her mind.”
I watch Mick out of the corner of my eyes, hoping I haven’t said too much. The last thing I want is to tip him off that I’m talking about his sister.
But at the same time, I could really use a guy’s point of view and I can’t talk to Jake, so…
“Well, if you were friends first, and you could talk then…” Mick trails off with a shrug. “I mean, that friendship is still there, beneath the other stuff. Maybe you should try getting back on more familiar ground, talking to her the way you did before things got complicated.”
I chew on the idea for a moment. “That could work.”
Mick takes another drink. “Or you could skip talking and go right for the grand, romantic gesture. That ought to let you know whether she’s into you pretty quick.”
“Force her hand, you mean.”
“Totally,” he says, warming to the idea. “Get it all out into the open at once. Like a shot. Then you’ll know where you stand.”
Like a shot.
It isn’t a bad idea.
Especially if it involves shots…
Maddie and I didn’t have any trouble communicating when whiskey was involved.
Maybe a return to our roots—a few shots and a steamy, semi-public encounter—is exactly what the relationship doctor ordered.
Chapter Thirteen
Maddie
He’s late.
I’ve already changed into a floor-length sleeveless black peasant dress, freshened my makeup, and paced the length of my apartment at least twenty times, growing progressively angsty the longer I’m forced to put off the impending Serious Discussion.
Jamison is usually early—a firefighter punctuality habit that I enjoy—but now it’s nearly five-thirty and I’ve yet to get a text saying he’s out back waiting for me to join him.
I’ve decided to take his tardiness as a sign that tonight isn’t the night for a talk, call him to make sure he’s okay before I cancel our date, and put off the stress-inducing encounter for a day or two, when my phone vibrates in my hand, making me jump and let out a startled bleat.